The truth about surviving the suicide of my 41 year old husband, raising our 3 kids alone, getting robbed and kidnapped the morning of the funeral (seriously, this really happened), and learning how to really LIVE, and even LAUGH, in spite of it all.

December 20, 2012

I can’t believe some of the crazy shit I’m reading.People are sending their little kids to
school wearing armored backpacks.Police
are stationed at schools all over the country.Crazy lunatics are suggesting that kids should be instructed to ‘rush
the gunman’ rather than hide, should they find themselves in a similar horrible
situation.

Has the world gone mad?Yes.YES.YES.The answer is YES!

Every day I read the news and I’m in complete shock at the
number of stories of knife wielding killers, students threatening to blow up
schools, and people being shot in malls and parks.

I sit here on the eve of what has been touted as the end of
the world…and I can’t say I’d be afraid or even sorry if God pressed the redo
button.

The other day I posted this on the Diary of a Madwoman
Facebook page, “It’s called Freedom OF religion, not Freedom FROM religion,”
and the comments sent me into a tail spin.Obviously I live in a bubble, because I honestly had no idea so many
people hated God/Christians/Religious people.Now I know.And I’m struggling with what to do with the
information.And I’m a little ashamed
that it’s taken me so long to become aware of this.

You know, I’m one of those people that is nearly unable to
stop trying.I don’t think I can take no for an answer, if no isn’t the answer I want.I’m a very logical thinker.My modus operandi is common sense.I’ve survived for 44 years being a no
nonsense kind of girl.I’m sorry I didn’t
trademark the phrase just do it, because I could have.

And this is what I see.

The pendulum is swinging wildly.It’s rocking the world.The universe is screaming for people to come
to the middle, to stabilize the planet.But
the people aren’t listening.Frightened
and scared, they’re running in opposite directions.This causes the planet to rock harder.

I honestly believe that humans are inherently good.Given the chance, most people would do the
right thing.Most people want
peace.Happiness.Prosperity.Love.But when the pendulum is
swinging so wildly, you’re more likely to get knocked down by the vibration.

Our kids are more likely to get struck by lightning and
eaten by a shark on the same day than they are to be shot up by a gunman in
their kindergarten classroom.Yet the knee jerk reaction is to send them to
school in a bulletproof backpack. Because the pendulum is swinging wildly.

A hundred years ago, people didn’t have cars or
televisions.A hundred years ago.The evolution
of our planet is so rapidly unfolding…it’s rocking the planet.There is no stopping it.Technology will not rest.But the people must learn to adapt.Stress adaptation.

Scientists have invented vaccines for most of our known
diseases.Common sense dictates that we
should vaccinate our children.But we
are now learning that excessive
vaccination may not be healthy.But we
all ran towards the vaccines.Quickly.In a matter of a few decades.The number of vaccines tripled.The pendulum swung violently.

Farmers have learned how to keep up with feeding the
billions of people in the world.Common sense dictates that we need enough food
so that we don’t go hungry.So they genetically
modified seeds and learned to give large amounts of antibiotics to cattle and
pigs.But we are now learning that excessive antibiotics and growth hormones
in our food supply may not be healthy.Genetically
modified foods may not be healthy.Quickly,
in a matter of decades, the farmers all ran towards increased production.But they ran too fast.The pendulum swung wildly.

Computers and smart phones and gaming devices were put into the
hands of all of the children.Common sense
dictates that we should keep up with technology.The world collectively decided it was good.But we are now learning that excessive computer time no matter the
game may not be healthy.Quickly, in a matter
of decades, the people ran towards to the technology.But they ran too fast.And the pendulum swung wildly.The kids became unable to function properly
socially.They were labeled depressed
and anxious and defiant.The answer hasn’t
been to integrate them with humans rather than computers, it’s been to give
them pills.

A hundred years ago there were no pills for depression and
ADHD and OCD and bipolar disorder.The people
were labeled with these diseases and drug companies invented the pills.The world collectively decided that the
people should have help with their mental disorders, and they should.But quickly, in a matter of decades, the diagnosed cases of these diseases went
through the sky.The people
swallowed the pills.But they swallowed
too many, too fast.The pendulum swung
rapidly.

A hundred years ago Americans were religious.Most people were members of a denomination.Then some people started to question whether
God/Buddha/Allah was real.Common sense
dictates that a God we can’t see may not be real.Some should be able to choose to be no
religion.But in a matter of decades,
the people ran away from God.And they
ran too fast.And the pendulum swung
violently.Those who still wished to be
religious were no longer afforded the opportunity to be religious in public.Because the non religious people were
frightened.

A hundred years ago people owned guns.Most people owned a gun.Then some people started to question whether
guns were necessary and safe.Common sense
dictates that guns can potentially be dangerous, yet the Constitution provides
for the right to bear arms and we have a right to defend ourselves.The gun owners don’t want to give in, for
fear of the pendulum swinging too far to the left and all guns being outlawed,
and the gun haters don’t want to give in for fear of the pendulum swinging too
far to the right and no guns being outlawed.

The real common sense is in the middle.

In all of these situations, there is a more peaceful place
in the middle.A place which stabilizes
the planet.It’s not too far to the
right, and it’s not too far the left.But
the people are not budging.Refusing to
see that too much or too little of anything is not good, all common sense is
lost.

December 14, 2012

I swear I
feel like every time I turn on my computer, there is a suicide headline.Worse, half of them seem to involve
homicides, where the sociopath first takes down a family member, or a group of kindergarteners, for Christ’s
sake, before ending his own life.

I’m reminded
of the crazed look on my sister’s face that fateful day, when big darling and I
came barreling down the street after learning that Dave had shot himself.She was out of her mind, because until she saw me, she hadn’t known whether he had killed me too.

I often
wonder if he did think about killing me.Did it cross his mind?Did he
ponder killing all of us?Or just
himself?How many times were we in the
same room together, maybe even conversing, and he was consumed with thoughts of
carrying out his plan?Did he hug me for
the last time and think, “This is the last time I will hug my wife?”Why didn’t he tell the children goodbye?He let big darling just walk out the
door…didn’t even tell him 'bye.He didn’t
tell me goodbye either.Because he was a fucking sociopath.And let me tell you something….I’m a pretty
smart mutha…but I DID NOT KNOW THIS.This, my friends, is scary.Normally, this would make me feel pretty
stupid.Except that too many of
my friends have been involved in similar circumstances.Dating someone, or even married to someone,
all the while NOT KNOWING that this person had a whole ‘nother life going on.

I hate to
attack men right now, but I’ma have to…because it’s the fucking men who do
it.They kill themselves WAY more than
women do.They kill others WAY more than
women do.There are FAR FAR LESS women serial
killers and very few women child molesters.It’s not women shooting up malls and kindergarten classes.It’s MEN.

Now, big
daddies, don’t go all cray cray on me.I
fully understand that the majority of you are about as close to normal as we can
master as a species.But WHAT IN THE
HELL is wrong with the remainder of you?How does this go SO HORRIBLY WRONG?

I’ve arrived
at the conclusion recently that the single most important thing in all the
world is called STRESS ADAPTATION.I
just made that phrase up.How do we
respond to stress?Because the truth is
that stress isn’t ever going to go away.It’s here to stay.Some of us can
let shit roll off our backs. Some of us
pick up guns and massacre kindergarteners.WHY?I
NEED TO KNOW WHY!!I need to know how my
husband could have the balls to aim a .38 special at his chest
and pull the trigger.I need to know how
that crazed Colorado killer could walk into that theater and kill innocent
people.I need to know why a handful of
NFL players have killed themselves and their girlfriends recently.I need to know why I have legions of readers
who are in the same God forsaken predicament that I am in.They’re widows.SUICIDE WIDOWS.Their children have no fathers.WHY????

Theories
abound.The kids were not spanked.Were not disciplined.Were not loved.They played video games.They did drugs.They didn’t pray.They were narcissistic.They were depressed.Pick one…any one.Because I’m not sure it even matters.It could be one or none of any of those
things….or….it could be….these people never leaned COPING SKILLS.

It has
occurred to me, as I enter midlife, that I possess the ability to train my brain.All along I have assumed that the whole world
operated this way.For example, if I
don’t like something, I change it.Don’t
like my thoughts, I change them.Don’t
like my behavior, I change it.Don’t
want to smoke anymore, I quit.Don’t
want to be sad, I kick myself in the arse and get happy.

How do I do
this?I simply declare it.I stay alert.
I am alert to the subtlest of a shift.You can’t wait until you’re a psychopath.All day every day we gently
ebb and flow. The audio tape plays in
your head.What does it say?

Remember how
researchers used to suggest playing a tape with all the answers to your science test
under your pillow at night.Your subconscious
would absorb it, they said.True or
not?Who knows?I was never interested in sleeping with a
hard tape recorder under my head.

But there is
a tape playing in your head every day.It tells you that you are hungry or full.Cold or hot.Energized or fatigued.Listen a
little more closely and pay attention to what is being played repeatedly.Do you have many anxious thoughts about one
of your kids?What is the thought?Do you have many frustrating thoughts about
your spouse?What are the thoughts?Why are you ignoring them?You can’t let the tape play on for months and
months without acknowledging it...this 'voice' which is YOUR EMOTIONS.You can’t keep burying them.The
tape is playing for a reason.Is yours
screeching? Is the volume on 11?Why are
you ignoring it?

The tape
will tell you that you smoke too much.Drink too much.Jerk off too
much.It will tell you that your kids
are sad, mad or bad.How loud does it
have to be for you to hear it?What
exactly needs to happen before you take action?Why do you ignore the emotional channel, yet satisfy your physical craving for food
or water or a blanket or a nap?Because
your emotional health is no less important.

My tape
recorder is set with the volume low.Because I listen.I’m paying
attention.My eyes are open.My ears are open.My heart is open.The universe is talking to me every day.I’m listening.Are you?

December 4, 2012

All that ‘holiday
cheer’ you all claim to have…where does that come from?Will I go to hell
for hating baby Jesus’ party planning?Gawd, I hope
not.I don’t hate Jesus or his
birthday.It’s his party I hate.And sometimes I think I’m going to beat you
all to Heaven for hating it.Because I think
he hates it too.

Thing wrong
#1:Christmas trees.What probably started as a nice gesture in a
little forest somewhere, has now escalated into a billion dollar industry that
makes me take pills.First there
is the tree itself, which costs way too much.Then stringing the lights, getting poked, scratched, etc.Hours of it. Everyone patiently waits for the lights to go
on.It takes so fucking long that it
ends up being a let down because you can’t decorate until the next day.Then when Christmas is over, you have to take
the lights down.You no longer care
about your priceless handmade ornaments; you carelessly toss them and rip them
down.The party is over.Just get the shit OFF!More poking, scratching, tugging and cursing,
all the while billions and fucktillions of needles cascade to the floor like a
piney blizzard.Bet you don’t give a
fuck about the scent now, do you?Some get
mad and just cut the lights off.Some get
frustrated and just throw the tree with lights to the curb.Heave HO.FUCK YOU TREE.

Last year I wisely
decided Christmas would be different.And
easier.So I bought a fake tree.Thing wrong #2.Fake trees are priced in line with small
cars.You can get a cheaper one, but it
will look like shit.You don’t want to
look like shit at Christmas, so you spend another fucktillion dollars on a nice
fake tree, because it’s going to last so
long.Oh yeah…I’m gonna have this
shit forever.So it’s totally worth it.Hahahahahaha.

NO.

I hauled my
very long 50 lb box of fake tree up 17 steps yesterday.When I began the awkward struggle up the
stairs I noticed the scent of shit.Not
human shit or dog shit…no…no shit like that.NASTY SHIT.Shit magnet
shit.Mouse shit or roach shit.So when I reached step 17 and the whole box
slid nicely back down to step one, I decided it was a gift from the gods and
that I should open the box full of mice or roaches OUTSIDE.And so I did.And while that was a right thing, the next thing that happened was

Thing wrong
#3.Seven, 7, five plus two ROACHES ran
out of the box.Now, at this point, in
my past, being a business owner and having wads of cash here and there, I would
have drug that fucker to the curb.However.I just bought it last year.I’m unemployed.I have no bread winner.No one wins bread here.Or any other food items.So I spayed it with Raid.Yes, fuck a pine scent.Pine scents are for pussies.Then, I got out the blower, and I just blew
and blew and blew that tree.I blew the
poo.Until I couldn’t blow the poo
anymore.

Thing wrong
#4.Now when I touch the tree, I know I am
touching areas where roaches once ran.And
not only that, Raid is poison, and I have an obsessive compulsive disorder with
poison.I feel that one teeny tiny
splash of any poison will send me to the terminally ill cancer ward
immediately, and my children will be orphans.

I take a
klonopin, so that I can touch said tree.Tis the klonopin season again, finally.Now here is an old friend that is welcomed during the holiday
season.I have missed this guy.

I erect the
tree.I plug in the pluggers.And guess what.The tree is fucked up.The middle strand of lights does not
work.So my great idea to buy a fake
tree so that I don’t have to fuck with lights is now ruined.Now I’m stupid.I’m in a hating Christmas frenzy.I’m still fucking with lights.And I don’t think Jesus is mad at me at all
for not enjoying the process.

I might get
a slight tap on the wrist at the pearly gates for saying fuck so much, but I’ma
take my chances, ya hurd me?

November 28, 2012

Christmas.The joyous Holiday Season.Oh how I love to loathe you, in many
ways.Look, let’s be honest for a
second.Christmas is lovely because
families gather and memories are made and I love all that.I really do. I get nostalgic for fires and egg nog and the
scent of pine.I love decorating my tree
with pretty ornaments and rediscovering all the Christmas things my kids have
made over the years.But I could certainly
love it more without all the fluff and commercialism.I’m
such a logical person.Nothing inside of
me feels good about wasting money on toys for children who already have so
much.I constantly think about the
children starving everywhere as I stand in the aisle at Toys R Us with a
monumental list in hand.Yes, I do give
money to needy children…but it’s all backwards, this world.We give the most to the people who need it
the least, and we give the least to people who need it the most.It makes me hate Christmas and hate myself
for participating in it.I have stopped
giving to adults.And I don’t feel
guilty.I use that money to give more to
the needy.I can’t stop giving to the
kids though.They don’t get it quite yet…although
I’m working on them, little by little.

So, in
preparation for the disgustingness of what seems more like ‘the toy season’
than ‘the birth of CHRIST’, I spent ten hours yesterday cleaning out my little
kids’ closet. TEN HOURS. I swear to you, If anyone buys them a Lego
set for Christmas, I’m going to retaliate by dumping legos all over
your lawn.Believe me when I say I have
enough to fuck you up.

I swear, I hate
toys!I hate Legos, because what is the
point, really?We spend hours putting
this crap together, and then less than 24 hours later, they're scattered
from one end of my house to the other.$49 for an hour of play?Really?Is that a good deal?

I hate
stuffed animals too.You hear that
people?Don’t buy my kids stuffed
animals.Stuffed animals are a ridiculous
waste of money because we hide them then throw them away, right?Around here, they end up in the Mardi Gras
bin to be thrown in parades.So think
about that when you are buying more puppies and bears for little darling.If you
want to take a chance on catching it next year in the Muses parade, then go for
it.

I hate
transformers too.Another toy that is
good for about three minutes.They watch
eagerly as I carefully follow directions to transform the monster into a
truck.I would rather chew my arm off on
Christmas Day.As soon as it’s a truck,
they anxiously ask me to make it back into a monster.And I smile and say, “Ok honey, I’ll do it in
a minute,” and then I never do it.Ever.For years, I never do it.And I’m not ever going to.Because I facking hate transformers. Seriously, who puts the suggestions
for age appropriateness on these things?Instead of ‘ages 6 – 8’ it should say something like this.

Recommended for:

Rocket
scientists who have never thrown objects out of anger

Children who
are taking the ACT this year

Women who
washed down their meds with a vodka tonic

Other
warnings:

Not to be used in the week prior to
menstruation

Do not attempt to transform product unless
under the influence of alcohol

November 26, 2012

Everyone’s a
‘whisperer’ lately.If you’re good with
babies, you’re a baby whisperer.Dog
lovers want to be dog whisperers.It was
suggested to me recently that I am a jackass whisperer, and I’m extremely fond
of the term.

So, it’s
been a busy week.Last weekend we camped
out with the Boy Scouts in Florida, which required a wardrobe change into Princess
with a Penis.All my friends were polished
up in their fine Holiday attire for a fundraiser gala, and I was in a tent with
a large pack of boys, all of whom smelled like goats asses.I had dirty nails and a smoky ponytail, but
my darlings were happy.It was 40ish
during the night and I totally hate the cold, but I zipped two sleeping bags
together, and all four of us slept side by side with hats on.We were toasty and happy, although it wasn’t
my best night of sleep.I sort of felt
like a spy…being a chick at a Boy Scout camp out and all.The men were on to me though, so they
remained on their best behavior and sadly I can’t even really make fun of them.

Then, a last
minute slumber party was thrown together Wednesday night at my 93 year old
grandmother’s house, since she hosts Thanksgiving every year.My laundry was still dangling from the ceiling
fans when I had to quickly start packing bags. It was one of those ‘pick out what you’re
going to wear tomorrow and pack everyone in five minutes’ deals.We left quickly and I (gasp) left dishes in
my sink.I had cooked my own
Thanksgiving Feast that day and we’d eaten it for dinner, and then bolted out
of the house.

Sometime
during Thanksgiving Day we decided to meet family in Mississippi the next
day.We returned home fat and lazy to
dirty dishes, clothes and bags askew, and had to start unpacking then packing again.I felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head at the disaster
that was my house.I wanted to vomit at
the number of people who had snuck out into their yards on Thanksgiving night
and magically put all their Christmas decorations up.Are you fricking kidding me people?I haven’t wiped my counters in three days and
I can’t even close the door to my laundry room.

In
Mississippi we met Pal, a three year old white poodle whose elderly owner was recently
admitted into a nursing home.Pal went
straight up to my kids, sat down next to them, and was just really nice.“Oh, wook at dis cute puppy, Mommy.He wikes me,” the baby was saying.“Oh wow, this is just what I was going to
look for at the pound.He doesn’t shed,
he’s a nice size and he seems really ni….”And in about the next four nanoseconds, Pal’s bed and food were being
loaded up into my car, because I’m the Jackass Whisperer.

I must say,
I do like Pal.I’m not fond of these
pussy poodle haircuts, so we’re going to let Pal grow out to enhance his level
of coolness.Then I’m going to teach him
to make a vodka tonic and smoke cigarettes.What I like most about him is that he gets outta my way.When he sees me cleaning, sweeping, doing my
thing….he knows this bitch is in a hella hurry and he scoots his li’l behind
right away before we collide.A lot of dogs
follow me in the kitchen, and they don’t move when I’m coming fast.It’s terribly annoying to constantly collide
with non-humans.

He slept
with big darling the first night, and is in bed with the two littles right
now.He ate a turkey leg in the yard
today (no, it wasn’t the one from my sink, weirdos.) He peed on everything he
could outside, hasn’t barked once, and is appreciating all the little hands petting
his head.At bedtime, all the darlings
were ‘thankful for Pal’ during prayers.

So there,
you weird dog blockers, who said I couldn’t have a dog because I have little
kids and no fence and didn’t meet your special dog whisperer requirements.I got one anyway.Cause I’m the jackass whisperer.That’s right....how ya like me nah?

November 21, 2012

I’m in the
asshole free zone because we had a meeting of the Assholes Anonymous Club last
night.The muthas ate, drank and were
merry.I have come to the conclusion
that vodka is a health food.Everything
else makes me so hungover.But vodka never
does.Hence, it’s health benefits.

Many people
are gearing up for Thanksgiving festivities.Last year, I wanted to sling all the food to the floor, kick the table
over, then scream and pull my hair like a madwoman.There seemed to be zero to be thankful
about.If I had to pick something last
year, I guess I could have said I was thankful that I had still managed not to be
a violent psychopath, in spite of the gods repeated taunting.

I remember turning
the radio up on the way home so my kids couldn’t hear the animal noises that
exited my throat while I made ugly cry faces and tried not to scare them.Forcing my body to start the car, drive the
car, pay attention to the road…it required monumental effort. I was a dead soul in a live body.I did it for the kids, and then I came home
and got in bed.

It was the
first real holiday without him, not counting Halloween.I got through Halloween by running up the
stairs repeatedly in my Batgirl costume to do shots of Patron.

365 days
have passed since then, and I can’t deny that I feel better.I’m thankful for the healing that has been
bestowed upon my family over the last year.I’m thankful for the people who have not forsaken us.The people who still remember us, who still
have a tight circle around us, the ones who felt our pain and agreed to carry
some of it as their own.The Universe
does rain down good tidings too.We live
with our eyes open, so that we can scoop up every drop.

I won’t lie
that I’m still a little nervous about this time of year.But I’ll handle it.I always do.I remind myself that I’m chocked full of all kinds of badassery.As I used to say before a half million people
started reading this blog, and I consequently started feeling the social noose
around my neck, “I’m the chief of the badass motherfuckers in charge.”I'm gonna live in this world my way.

So, a little
advice…to those gathering with family this week.Hold your people close.Even those that are past due for attendance
to the Assholes Anonymous meeting.Be
forgiving.Be patient.Be kind. Be loving. Be ACCEPTING. Those people are not going to be here one
day. Hell, they may not even be here
tomorrow.You will never be sorry for
doing the right thing. If that shit doesn't work, then kick the table over. At least you tried!

November 12, 2012

Things were getting sort of boring, right?The kids were even bored and were beginning
to overuse their British accents.I was
just thinking the other day that I haven’t done a public service announcement
in quite some time.When lo and behold,
a cause has landed in my lap.So here’s
a little public service announcement for “Dave’s friend.”She has now left two hysterical, angry
messages on my answering machine, where she shouts about how sober she is now,
provides me with detailed information about her urine testing, then angrily
screams that she has spoken to her lawyer, and will be filing suit for
defamation of character.She goes on
with outlandish babble like “if you can write a book, I can too!”

Apparently this delusional person has gotten wind of the Diary, and is alarmed that a book may
be forthcoming.Of course one minor
detail is that she hasn’t actually read the Diary.She has
erroneously jumped to the narcissistic conclusion that she is an important part
of the story and that I have called her out by name.But, alas, we regret to
inform you that your character has been eliminated.In other words, that means, “You ain’t a
pimple on my ass, crackie.”Not that the
madwoman has pimples on her ass. Occasionally,
I might have one on my chin.Anyway, what
she says is so true.Anyone can write a book.But convincing others to read it…well…therein
lies the challenge, right?I’m not even
sure I can do it.So, good luck with your little book. And please, never, ever scream and curse
into my answering machine while I have PMS.If you are not aware of the intricate details regarding my cycles, then
you should err on the side of caution and just do that…never.Not to mention it
took me 16 days to even know you left a message on my home phone.Little darling doesn’t even think that phone
is real.

You all are probably wondering what in THE FACK is even
going on here.So, let me just say that
negative, weird, insane people who were friends with Dave have no place in my
life.And that any person who colluded
with my husband to secure pills on a regular basis did, in fact, contribute to
his addiction, and thus ultimately contributed to his death.If that thought makes you a little
uncomfortable, it’s because it should.I don’t provide the discomfort.I just provide the words.

I’m so disgusted that the door to the past was absent-mindedly left ajar, and a sliver of Dave’s addicted past was able to slip
through.I’m seriously thinking about
throwing that phone away, and buying a new one.Just thinking of the vile message and even all the words that were
spoken between Dave and I over the years on that very phone make me feel quite
sick.

All the many times I pleaded with him, threatened, cried, said crazy things, poured my heart out, begged,
promised…just all of it…so intense, so frustrating, so SAD.No wonder it was so hard!I had no clue what I was even up
against.I realized today after I was
left shaking from her message that Dave’s death gave me the ability to close
the door, once and for all, on all of that.And I vow to put a lock on that sucker that the Navy Seals themselves can’t
penetrate.Cause I’m done with
crazy.I’m on the healing path.Surrounded by positive, loving, sane people. We
ain’t cray cray here no more.No
indeed.We’re British.

November 6, 2012

Yeah, because I killed some cute baby squirrels and I hate election wavers.

That’s right.The
heinous and grotesque hairy creature that was scratching and rummaging through
my attic was not a rat after all.Unfortunately it wasn’t a baby giraffe either.It was a poor squirrel.We watched him go in this afternoon.I should have known because when I drew a
picture of his poo for one of the muthas yesterday, her eyes got wide and she
said, “That’s big.”Not much I can do to
save him now because I got into a bit of a frenzy and threw the rat poison
everywhere.You know why?Because baiting disease-y, scurrying things is
not my job.I shouldn’t even be doing this, Dave!It’s creepy up there, with all these rules about where to walk,
constantly hitting my head, being distracted by old things everywhere.Why,
why, why do we even put stuff in our attic? I’m balancing on a small board with
poison in my hand and the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I’m
certain rats are staring at me, but I’m still pondering whether I should muscle
this wooden table downstairs and paint it and use it somewhere.Facking hoarders!Now I’m going to have dead squirrels in my
attic too.I should be approved for the
hoarding show soon.

Now, I feel I must rant about ridiculous election wavers.Look, I hate mornings, and I hate
people.I definitely hate people in the
morning.But you….you outlandish
election wavers…just get away from the corners I frequent.Seriously.I have PMS. This is not a parade, yet some of these jittery people are dressed like Uncle Sam. I just want to bring
my kids to school in peace. Don’t wave
at us.I’m busy in the car trying not to
be Mrs. Asshole again.Little people are
giving me papers to sign.I’m not even
finished checking my important messages that I might have received in the
middle of the night.My teeth are
fuzzy.I still have another kid to come
home and dress and bring to another school.I know it looks like I’m a functionally dressed member of society, but I
AM NOT, so don’t mess with me.I have pajama pants on.Sunglasses.No makeup. A little tinted lip gloss so I can fool
people. I haven’t finished my
coffee.When I get home I’m not even
going to be able to find it.So don’t smile
and shake your sign at me, and definitely don’t wave at me.I don’t even know where to look. I get the same feeling when I see homeless
people on the curb and I don’t have any money. A whole red light is such a long time for this awkwardness. I don’t want to be mean, but I sure as hell
don’t want to look at all you extra people in the morning.It’s a
safe bet that I’m not one of those cars honking back at you in support.If you hear my horn, it’s because I’m angrily
honking at the slow moving car of supporters in front of me and yelling, “Go
Jackass!”

I’m voting for the person who sends the whole lot of you to
pick up trash by the interstate when you’re done.Stupid wavers!

PS: The Diary is being featured on NolaBaby.com magazine. Give them a click!

November 5, 2012

It’s not a good day.I
put the darlings to bed last night and about 15 minutes later I heard someone
rustling in the kitchen.“Who’s up?” I called
out.No answer.“What are you doing?Who is in the kitchen?”Still no answer.“Damnit!” I mutter as I get up and head
towards the kitchen.Upon arrival there
is no one there…but I still hear the rustling.It’s not coming from the kitchen.It is LOUD.It is coming from the
laundry room.I nervously approach the
dark laundry room.I can’t believe how
loud this scratching noise is…and I nervously flick on the light and jump
back.I see nothing, and the noise
stops.Oh my fack.I know there is some kind of thing around here.No doubt it is furry and heinous and
grotesque.Whatever it is knows I just
turned the light on.I stand there for a
minute.The rustling and scratching
resumes.I know one thing for
certain.This ain’t no damn mouse.No siree.This is a giant rat.The noise is
LOUD.Please God let it be a cute baby
squirrel.Or a giraffe.

My house is in semi-disaster state from the weekend.It rained yesterday and they were mostly
inside.This morning I yelled at big
darling on the way to school.He almost
cried.I should have pulled over and
hugged him.I apologized before he got
out.I
hate when I do that in the morning, and my punishment will be that I’ll
feel horrible all day.I’ll imagine he
is having a horrible day, crying when no one is looking, and feeling terrible
about himself all day long.I know
darned good and well he’s forgotten about everything I said, and probably hasn’t
given it another thought since the first friend greeted him on the playground
two seconds after dropoff.I can’t
convince myself of it, though.I’ll wait
for the phone to ring all day.“Hello, Mrs.
Asshole, your son is crying in the office.”Because you’re an asshole.And assholes
shouldn’t yell at their kids on the way to school.

On my list today is to put Halloween decorations away.In the attic.Where the baby giraffe is.The
gods are snickering.I can hear them.

November 3, 2012

My kids have always loved Halloween, and this year I was relieved that it wasn't especially traumatizing. Last year was a bit creepy because looking at lots of dead people with blood and guts spilling everywhere made us think about our own special dead person. That really sucked. We had walked into the big Halloween Superstore like we do every year, but last year we ended up running out after only a few seconds. None of us could handle it. Not even me. It was a total ninja surprise attack. Big darling was wringing his hands, the little ones were crying, and I was buckling them back into their seats as fast as I could, my own hands trembling and my heart pounding. What the fuck had just happened?
This year was better. Little darling was dressed as the po-lice.Or as my niece described, “A nark.”He literally ran from house to house,
completely manic, high on sugar, just high on life. You couldn’t help but crack up at him.He was hilarious, and happy.He mostly is those things, to be honest. He’s
such a blessing to me.

My niece and I had our 2nd Annual pumpkin carving
contest the night before.Big darling
selected a Jesuit Blue Jay for me to carve, because he intends to go to high
school there.

My niece showed up here with two selections. Super Mario and Tinkerbell.She tried to get away with carving Tinkerbell
because Mario ‘looked hard.’The boys
just laughed.No way in hell 3 boys were
going to let her get away with that.Are
you kidding?My kids won’t even dry off
with a pink beach towel.I don’t care if
its 25 degrees and they are soaking wet.They will wait for you to go get another towel.I once bought a pink raft on purpose, so they
would stay off it. They got on it after a couple hours, saying it was “mommy’s raft, but they were just using it.”I have no clue what makes them fear pink more
than zombies.I should buy a pink comforter
on sale and put it on their bed for punishment when they are bad.Now there’s a great idea.

We lit the chiminea and had dinner outside, and carved our pumpkins while they ran wild in the yard. Funny saying of the night: Me to little darling, sternly "We don't roll over burritoes with a scooter!" You guys can judge the winner. Our judges here are the boys so they always declare me the winner.I had totally forgotten
about this, but last year, they were hesitant to tell my niece that she didn’t
win, so middle darling placed 3 soccer cones by her pumpkin, and put a toy fire
truck next to mine.Then he announced
that the person with the cones did not win.The pumpkin closest to the fire truck won.We got a good chuckle out of his diplomacy.

This year, we finished carving and I headed to the fridge to
get a beer.As I walked away, I called
out, “So who won?”I turned around two
seconds later to see that the soccer cones were already around Mario, and my
Blue Jay had a toy helicopter near it.I
spit my beer and cracked up till my stomach hurt.I had totally forgotten they had done that
last year.Big darling is a sly, funny
boy.He reminds me so much of his
daddy.That is a total Dave move, to not
say anything but just do something quietly funny.

They danced in the kitchen on Halloween night until 10 pm,
and I let them all stay home from school the next day.We wrote notes to Dave and put them inside
helium balloons, then released them at the cemetery.We watched them fly higher and higher and
higher until they just disappeared.I was
a little nervous that something terrible would happen….like they wouldn’t fly
or we would see them pop…but that didn’t happen.They looked like teeny tiny stars up there…until
they were just no more.

I worry that I’ve confused little darling, as I have no clue
what exactly he comprehends.Through my
choking tears, and with my dark sunglasses on, I tried to explain to him in a trembling
voice that daddy wasn’t ‘really’ going to get the note.It’s just a symbol.A 3 year old doesn’t have a clue what a
fucking symbol is.Clearly I don’t know
what I’m doing…but my intentions are good.

We had a nice lunch outside at a restaurant afterwards.Little darling announced in front of some
other moms I barely know that “mommy farted.”He
shouted it twice for good measure.I have
no clue why the little asshole said that, because I didn’t fart.Of course I made it worse, by crying out, “No
I didn’t! Why would you say that?” and then looking right at them to see if
they heard him, which of course they did.

I was starting to like Dave a little bit again.Starting to feel nostalgic for him and
all.But this morning I woke up to find
that a raccoon popped the inflatable ring around the pool, which is what keeps
it from collapsing and spilling 10,000 gallons of saltwater onto my grass.It hasn’t collapsed yet, but my attempt at
fixing it while 10,000 mosquitoes bit my legs was unsuccessful.So I’m a little perturbed at him again…although
he won’t know it when he gets my balloon.

These are pumpkins that Dave carved one year, when we only had one kid and apparently lots of idle time.PS: You can't comment as "anonymous" anymore, because apparently "anonymous" is synonymous with "Sri Lankan asshole spammer." I couldn't take it anymore. If you don't have a usable ID to comment, just do it on the FB page.

October 26, 2012

I’ve been tired and run down with a cold the last few days,
so I decided yesterday to DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.I never ever do that.I must say it was quite nice and I feel more energized today. I'm also a little bit scared that I might want to do that alot more. I was thinking about the Holidays getting near, and was tempted to start shopping online. I think that might be my new method of shopping this year, because I will buy less. I get impulsive otherwise. This led me to thinking about things I like, and this rug I really want...so instead of shopping online, I decided to save my money and make a list of a few clever things I think you need.

Pure Komachi knives. Every.single.person. who has ever used
these knives at my house wants them.I
have the 6 inch chef knife, which is lavender colored, the blue fish knife, and
the red tomato knife.I love them all.Best thing about them:they’re ten dollars, baby.They are lightweight and super easy to
sharpen.These knives taught me how to
chop like a professional.If you watch
me chop, you will think I’m some kind of sous chef. My brother gave me these knives years ago.I still get a tingly feeling when I take them
out of the drawer.A few times a year I sharpen
them on a sharpening steel, and I think everyone has one of those in their
utensil drawer somewhere, right?It came
with the knives you received as a wedding gift in 1995.I’m not a professional knife sharpener, and I’m
not aware of any tricky angles, but this isn’t rocket science like some people
want you to believe.I make a few passes
on the tool thing-y and they are like new. Don’t put them in the dishwasher.

A rotating facial cleansing brush.There are a variety on the market.Olay sells one for $30, and I’ve seen them for up to $150.I can’t imagine why one is so much better
than the other.I have the $30 one and
if I don’t use it for a while, then suddenly use it, I get compliments on my
dewy complexion all day. This happens every time I use it, so it’s no
bullshit.If you’re over 35, you
need this. Men too.

A sonicare truthbrush.Because are you still just manually brushing your teeth?If you are, they are not as clean as they can
be and I might be able to tell by your breath.You’re in a panic now, aren’t you?I know this is expensive, but it’s one of those things that pays for
itself over time.Before I had this
toothbrush, I would go to the dentist for cleanings and the hygienists would
scrape and poke and hurt and scare me.I
actually go to the dentist less now because of this toothbrush, and when I go, there is no scraping and
poking.They say, “You use a sonicare
don’t you?I can tell.”One less trip to the dentist and you’ve paid
for it.Can’t live without this.

A squishy pillow.In
my house, everyone fights over my pillow.It’s a white goose down pillow that was a splurge item for me after
Katrina.I cannot sleep on another
pillow, period.Check around for sales.If you have allergies, you
can put an allergy cover on it.When my
head hits this pillow at night, it’s a happy feeling. I can’t be as happy with any other pillow.Be selective about the down.Cheaper feather pillows allow sharp quills to
poke through.That shit can blind you
and is not cozy.Nothing has ever poked
through this pillow.

My sofa.I love my
sofa.I coveted this Pottery Barn sofa
for years.It was $3500.I would lovingly stroke it in the store, and
even drool on it, then the ladies would say, “Ma’am, may we help you?”and I would be jolted back to reality.Of course I could never get the sofa.Doomed to cheap, ugly sofas, because of my
house full of boys superhero sofa jumpers.Then one day, I discovered
sofacraft.org.They sold the exact same
Pottery Barn sofa, for about $675.MADE
THE SAME WAY.WITH THE SAME FABRIC.This is no lie, people.I selected fabric and had it shipped for
under $300.I got extra durable, dense
cushions on purpose.I wanted it to be
uncomfortable to everyone so they would just stay the hell off of it.I’ll never forget when it was delivered. It was all wrapped up and the guys set it down
in my foyer and two of the boys ran to jump on it, and they bounced off.Ecstatic, I jumped up and down and squealed,
“It repels children!”Oh, what a happy
day.

This rug.Ok.
Seriously.I don’t have this rug.

But I want it.Oh, how I want it.But I can't have this with my snot bag children.So I got this
one instead.

It’s in their play
room.It’s indoor/outdoor polypropylene
fiber.So, if little darling spills his
apple juice just a little bit and then steps on 4 goldfish in the same wet
spot, which normally makes sort of a slop pig paste, then I’ma just take it
outside and blast the shit with the hose, ya hurd?It’s plastic.But I swear it still feels soft to the touch and looks nice with a thick
rug pad under it.I wouldn’t put it in
my living room, but it’s perfect for their playroom.This
could go under a casual dining room table too. Designers are using them alot in kitchens now as well. Although I don't think they're using $87 rugs like my zebra find. They're more like a few hundred. Still inexpensive for a rug, though. This market has come a long way since we were kids and indoor/outdoor carpet was that green golf course looking crap. I think manufacturers are starting to realize there is a market for this type of rug to be used indoors...you know, the kind you can hose off because kids are pigs who ruin our shit. Next, I might write a list called, "Shit my kids ruined."

Welcome

The Diary is the truth about surviving the suicide of my 41 year old husband, raising our 3 kids (ages 10,5, and 2) alone, getting robbed and kidnapped the morning of the funeral (seriously, this really happened), and learning how to really live, and even laugh, in spite of it all.